


Times Two Tinier

by Shinocchi



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Age Play, Birthday, Character Study, Domestic Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Plot Devices, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 08:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14398170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinocchi/pseuds/Shinocchi
Summary: He'd never known how to take care of himself, let alone taking care of others. But when he finds himself picking up a child who looks strangely like a younger version of himself one day, he's left with no choice but to learn how to be a caretaker -- for himself.A story between Desire and his younger self.





	Times Two Tinier

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, Aoba!
> 
> As with every year's tradition, this year birthday story for Aoba is the interaction between Desire and a younger version of himself. The tag is labeled mature for the mention of alcohol and fights. 
> 
> This story's timeline is in between [chapter 3 of Two in One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9419315/chapters/23695413) in my head but it can also be read as its own story.
> 
> Once again, happy birthday, Aoba! And remember that before you learn how to take care of others, you would need to learn how to take care of yourself first heh. 
> 
> Thank you for reading and hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! <3

_It’s the same thing all over again_ , he thought as he wolfed another mouthful of beer down his throat. _Weak, weak, weak._

Needless to say, the Rhyme match was beyond disappointing. He was just about to get himself warmed up but his opponent decided to launch a not-so-surprising attack at him, thinking he wouldn’t have noticed. Ren didn’t even get a chance to debut. Just a punch and a kick and he had the man lying on the ground, clutching onto his stomach and writhing in pain.

And, naturally, the match came to an end before it could even start. Someone said something about how frequent groaning would turn a person old faster but he did it nevertheless as he let out a third sigh in a mere fifteen minutes. If growing old faster means being able to get rid of this worthless life quicker than so be it; he’d rather that than having to face these weaklings and stupidly wasting every day of his life.

He tossed the beer bottle into one shadowy corner, snickering when he heard trundling sounds of card boxes. It must be rats, petrified and fleeing for their life; just like those weaklings.

But he instead, what caught him off guard soon after was a faint sniffing sound; a small voice, and young – a voice that sounded like a kid’s.

His thought process nippily went from if he’d accidentally hit the child with his trash or if he should even bother checking it out. Eventually, he stood, taking cautious steps towards the direction where he’d just flung his bottle, just to check out the obscure corners hidden behind piles of raggedy filthy paper boxes.

As expected, he found a child hiding in the shadows. The child was small as he thought he’d be, crying and hiding his face from view. But what Aoba never expected himself to find was how this very child possessed hair that looked almost like his own, albeit shorter. It had the same gradient of blue, the same scruffy ends, and the same layering he was used to seeing when he checked the state of his own hair out in the mirror. It wasn’t a common style one could find in Midorijima and the mere fact that someone else (someone a lot younger than him, even) had the nerve to mirror his style left a sour taste in his mouth.

“Oi,” he called out, realizing too late that he sounded too harsh for a child. The small boy’s body trembled upon hearing his voice. Then, as slowly as he could, he turned around. The moment their eyes met, Aoba’s stomach did a funny flip.

Not only did the boy have hair the same as his, he even had the same eye colour as Aoba did; it made him feel like he’s looking at a younger version of himself.

“Are you kidding me…?” Aoba gnashed under his breath. This must be a joke. He must have drank too much and now all that he’s seeing were mere delusions.

Sighing profoundly, he squatted in front of the weeping boy, noticing how he averted his gaze whenever Aoba tried to meet eyes with him, before he spoke,

“What are you doing here?”

The child lifted his face a tad, properly looking Aoba in the eyes this time, still teary-eyed.

“Where are your parents?” Aoba continued asking.

But all the child did was shake his head, then concealed his face into his hands again. He didn't seem like he was about to answer any of Aoba’s questions.

Aoba clicked his tongue. Straightening up, he looked around, finding no one in the perimeter, and glowered as he returned his attention to the child. The boy looked at him, his eyes seemed to be conveying messages Aoba had no idea of and all that he could do in response was scratching the back of his head.

“It’d be troublesome if someone finds out I’ve made contact with you before if something ever happens to you…” he spoke to himself. “Man, why can’t I mind my own business?”

His gaze dawdled on the empty can by the child’s feet, then the pale bruise mark on his leg. It required no genius to figure out what could’ve caused the bruise.

What should he do now? Leaving the boy here was definitely a preferred option, since there’s no witnesses around to prove that he’d been interacting with the lost child anyway. Bringing him around, though, would be a hassle, even more so if he was to bump into some of his rivals, who would certainly laugh at him for having a kid with him. He’d gotten enough from how his AllMate looked far from how his image was like after all. If only he had Ren with him now… but he’d kept Ren away after the last rancorous match, deeming no use for him if he wasn’t about to join any more matches today.

After a long consideration, Aoba crossed his arms and said,

“Too bad for you, I can’t let you follow me. You would’ve to look for a more reliable person.”

With that said, he stuck his hands into his pockets and walked away.

 _This is fine_ , he said to himself. He’s been attracting too much troubles lately and the last thing he needed was to drag innocent people into the consequences of his reckless actions. Especially not a kid.

He chanted the reassurance in his mind for multiple times, turned a corner and was thinking about where he should hang out next when he heard soft scurrying footsteps from behind him.

From a far corner, he saw the same hint of gradient-blue, hiding behind the wall, peeking vigilantly at him. He turned his back towards the shadow, pretending that he’d seen nothing, then immediately looking over his shoulders just to find the same shadow throttling back to hide in his corner.

He sighed out loud. Seriously, how many times had he been sighing today? Grumbling, he changed the direction of his track, walking back to where he came from, and finally, came to stand right in front of the little boy.

“Hey, you,” he said, towering over the boy. The child quivered in response, tears returned to his eyes. “What do you want from me?”

The boy shook his head aggressively. In the next second, he sprinted and seized weakly onto the corner of Aoba’s jacket.

They shared eye contact for a full ten seconds before Aoba brushed the tiny hand off his jacket, then clutching onto it instead. Now holding onto the boy’s hand, he started walking without a word.

He would definitely regret this but yet, he found himself taking delight in the trivial smile the boy was wearing on his face now, a sight he caught when he peered at him from the corner of his eyes. There’s something about the colour of his hair, the light in his eyes, and the grin he gave Aoba that was doing things to him. Not only that this child looked exactly like him when he was younger, he also reminded Aoba of how he was like when everything around him hasn’t fallen apart; the time when he still had his parents with him and when he still thought of himself as the happiest person in the world.

Perhaps that’s precisely the reason to why he couldn’t leave the boy alone. Because, while he could see his own silhouette in this child, he could also see the same grief he’d experienced when his parents left him and it reminded him of how lonely it was having to deal with it when he was merely a three-year-old child.

If what had happened to him was what had happened to the child as well, then there’s even more reason to how he _could not_ leave him alone now.

It felt strange to know that there might be someone else in this world who could understand the same despair he’d gone through when he thought the only savior for him was no one but himself.

While he pondered about what to do with the boy now, he felt a soft tug on his hand, looking down to see the boy eyeing something in a distance.

The boy was ogling at a restaurant; it’s lunch time now, so it’s packed with people but there’s no way Aoba could walk into this kind of place without being brutally judged. He had no money with him in the first place. Moreover, he wouldn’t want to risk being chased out of the shop before he could even set foot into it. He had a reputation around the area after all.

“Not there,” he said, hauling the boy and deterring his attention away from the restaurant. “Let’s go there instead.”

He pointed towards an opposite direction, where a small roadside store could be seen. Behind the store stood a young girl, around the age of Aoba’s, busy with something in her hands. On the store itself, a huge ‘rice’ letter could be seen dangling on top of the cart.

“You’re hungry, aren’t you?” he asked, but clearly not waiting for an answer. “I guess I could grab something to eat too.”

Firmed with his decision, he rushed his steps towards the store. When they came near to the cart, the girl behind it looked up, bracing a perky smile.

“Welcome! Today’s special is—oh, it’s you.”

The smile disappeared as soon as it appeared.

“You’ve got a problem with me?” Aoba retorted.

“Not if you pay this time,” the girl frowned with a side-eye, her tone no longer as welcoming as before.

“Add today’s bull onto my last one,” Aoba said instead.

“What?! Hello, kid, if you aren’t already aware, your pending bills have stacked high enough to build a paper fort—hey, are you listening?”

“One _onigiri_ , okay?” Without listening to what the girl was saying, Aoba talked to the boy, who nodded at his question. “Two _onigiris_ , then.”

“Oh wow, didn’t know you have a son,” the girl responded with brightened eyes, now staring wittily at the small boy.

“Shut your joke. Me? A son?”

“Am I wrong? He looks exactly like you, though,” the girl elaborated, now leaning closer to take a better look at the boy. “Hi, little one, how are you?”

“Anyway, hurry up, I’m starving,” Aoba pestered.

“I’ll let you go this time just because you have a child with you and I have an image to uphold, alright?” the girl complained with a pout. “Two _onigiri_ s, right?”

Aoba waved his hand, a signal of yes, then turned to look at the small boy again.

“That’s all I can afford. Take it or leave it.”

All the boy did was beaming at him, the off-the-cuff response had Aoba looking away, unsure of how to react. Even when they started eating their rice balls, the smile never left the small boy’s face, looking as if he was eating the most delicious food in the world. _It must be great_ , Aoba thought as he looked into a distance, waiting for the boy to finish with his food. _Great that some people can get happily from such a simple thing_.

He couldn’t remember when was the last time he was ever genuinely happy. Perhaps he was as happy as this boy when he was as young as him, but he couldn’t remember anything about being happy anyway. The sharpest of his memory was one of how heart-breaking he felt when his parents, then Koujaku, left him, leaving him alone to deal with his differences. All that he could remember from his childhood was the feeling of agony and hardships, as if those were exactly what had sucked the happiness out of him.

His thoughts wandered until when he felt the small boy pulling onto his hand.

“Happy?” Aoba said, cursing internally when he realized his tone was too heavy again.

“Don’t you have anywhere else to go? Following me will do no good, you know?” Aoba said, trying as hard as he could to keep his tone in control. But the boy simply stared at him, as if he couldn’t understand what he was talking about.

“Whatever,” Aoba surrendered. “I’ll just be walking around. If you don’t mind how boring this could get, then sure, keep up.”

Hearing that, the boy grinned brightly again then, without warning, he gripped so hard onto Aoba’s hand and stood before Aoba could stand himself.

“How nice would it be if I can be as easy to please as you too?” Aoba mumbled. It was a nuisance having to bring a child around with him. Again, he could’ve left him at the store and he was sure that the lady would do something about it. Above all, she might even be a better person than him to hang around with.

But instead, he found himself still stuck with the child, who didn't seem to want to let him go as he tried hard to keep up with Aoba’s pace while Aoba walked along the streets.

“Ah, Aoba-san.”

“Yo, Aoba, what a fortunate encounter.”

He clicked his tongue out of his own instinct. This is the worse – the _worse_ – time to be bumping into them. Without turning around to respond to the voices, he waited as footsteps crept up towards him and soon enough, two hands were on each side of his shoulders.

“I’m not in the mood for both of you today,” he whinged.

“How mean. Don’t say that. We only wanted to say hi.”

“That’s right,” Trip said with his usual smile. “Besides, we see you have company today.”

Aoba’s frown deepened. How could he explain this situation to them? If only he could brush them off by force…

“Where does this kid come from?” Trip asked, squatting to look at the timid child. “Hey, he looks like you. Could it be that he’s your—“

“He’s not my child,” Aoba retorted. “I picked him up from the trash.”

“It seems like Aoba-san tends to be attracted to discarded properties,” Virus said offhandedly. “Wasn’t that how you picked up your AllMate too?”

“Yeah, but where is he now?” Trip followed up, looking around the grounds, finding for the blue-furred dog.

“He’s not with me today,” Aoba said dismissively.

“Does that mean you don’t intend to play Rhyme today?” Virus guessed.

Aoba shrugged.

“Doesn’t seem like he can anyway, seeing how he has such as… young company with him today,” Trip said, eyeing the small child while he hid behind Aoba, peeping from his back with his small hands clutching onto Aoba’s pants.

“I’ve had enough of Rhyme today,” Aoba answered, monotone.

“Is that so?” Virus said. “Well then, if that’s the case, how about spending some time with us?”

“What?”

“You see…” Virus trailed off. “Remember about that cake shop we mentioned the other day? The one in the west district. We thought perhaps today would be a good day to visit it with you.”

“Are you joking me? A cake house? Didn’t I already say no the last time you asked?”

“That’s true, but you’re not by yourself now and we figured your company might appreciate it.”

Aoba looked down, reminded, just to see the small child glancing curiously at his direction.

Virus had a point. He wasn’t very fond of cake houses himself but perhaps a kid like this would find it interesting. Besides, he didn’t have anywhere else to go, neither did he have any idea of what else a kid would like; to be frank, it wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Whatever,” Aoba said at long last. “For the boy, not me, okay?”

“Excellent,” Virus beamed wider.

“This way, Aoba.”

And just like that, Aoba followed Virus and Trip, who led the way and guided them out of the quieter end of Midorijima and into the opposite district of the town.

 

* * *

 

The buttery aroma of soft cream wafted alluringly under his nose. High-pitched, upbeat melodies echoed by his ears as he tried hard not cringe at the sight of giggling customers from the corners of his eyes. Two plates of cakes were placed in front of him; one an exquisite ombre rosette cake with layers of red velvet sponge and another an elegant lemon thyme cake with alternating layers of lemon curd and vanilla buttercream.

Those colours were too bright for him; in fact, this entire place made him feel so out of place he felt as if he’d stepped into a totally new dimension he never knew of.

“Aoba-san?” Virus called from his opposite, fingers crossed as he supported his chin with his hands. “Are you not eating?”

Aoba shrugged. He felt a small yank on his sleeve when he was about to push one of the plates away.

“Seems like he’s eager to try,” Trip’s voice rang, immediately having Aoba to cast him a sideway glare.

“Which one do you want?” The corners of Virus’ lips curved as he pointed to the red velvet cake, then to the lemon thyme cake. “The red one or the yellow one?”

Instead of answering, the little boy pulled tighter onto Aoba’s shirt, merely staring at him, as if asking him for his permission.

“Don’t ask me, you decide for yourself,” Aoba snapped, then looked away.

When he couldn’t sense any response from the boy, he peeked warily at him from the corner of his eyes, heart skipping a beat when he saw traces of tears in the boy’s eyes. His nose turned red gradually, he seemed like he was about to burst out crying anytime now.

“Woah, wait, wait, wait.” He can’t let him cry now, he can’t afford more troubles. First of all, he never knew how to console a crying person, let alone a crying child. Secondly, it’d look like he was the one who’d made the child cry and he cannot allow unwarranted rumours about him to spread throughout the town more than it already was. So, out of desperation, Aoba pulled one of the plates over – the red velvet cake – and picked the small fork up, clumsily cutting a small piece out of the corner of the cake.

“Here, eat this,” he shoved the piece of cake towards the boy’s face. In the next second, the boy broke into a wide grin, the smidgeons of tears vanished like nothing had happened before. He took the fork out of Aoba’s hand and started munching on the cake, smiling the entire time.

“That’s why children are troublesome,” Aoba groaned raucously as he slumped against the chair with crossed arms and a deep frown.

“But Aoba-san seems to have a way with them,” Virus complimented, albeit sounding sarcastic in Aoba’s ears.

“Right, Aoba can be a great day,” Trip agreed.

The comments drew a deeper frown in between Aoba’s eyebrows.

“Shut it. A good dad? Nonsense.”

Virus and Trip sent each other a questioning look before their eyes brightened, realizing something.

“You know we don’t mean it that way, Aoba-san,” Virus attempted to rectify.

“Whatever,” Aoba looked away with a huff. “Oh man, can’t you eat properly?”

While he wanted to distract himself by checking out on the boy, he’d noticed how messy had the boy been eating. He had cream all over his face and his hands and he didn’t seem to notice it himself either, his attention completely captured by the food. Seeing that, Aoba grabbed a napkin from the table and pressed it against the boy’s cheek.

“Didn’t your parents teach you how to eat with proper manners?” Aoba reprimanded.

Faint chuckles reverberated from opposite him, a slap in his face, having him to realize how ironic his words were. Frustrated, he hastily wiped the cream off the boy’s face and threw the dirty napkin onto the table, acting as if he hadn’t heard the laughter.

“Are we done here?” he asked the boy, now clean-faced, full, and unmistakeably happy. As soon as the boy nodded, Aoba took him in his hand and stood without another word. Virus and Trip followed suit.

“Leaving already, Aoba-san?” Virus asked as he and Trip followed him to the door.

“I’ve got no more business here,” Aoba countered. “And I’m not paying for anything.”

“Of course. We were the ones who’d invited you here. Of course we’d be paying,” Virus gladdened.

“Hope you enjoyed the treat, Aoba,” Trip waved as Aoba walked down the street with the child.

Without any intention to have anything else to do with the not-twins, Aoba simply hassled away, feeling more frustrated than he already was before he took up their offer.

 

* * *

 

“It’s enough, right?”

The sun sank lower in the sky, soft rays of lights draining away gradually, giving way to the velvety dark of the night. It’s been a long day of doing nothing – well, nothing worth bragging of – and all Aoba wanted to do now was to go home, take a shower, and sleep.

If only he could do something with the kid first, though.

“Don’t you have a place to return?” he groused, already expecting no answer from the child.

It wasn’t something he’d like to admit himself but now that he’d spent the day with this child he’d come to grow some sort of undefinable affection towards him. Maybe the kid felt the same too, and perhaps that’s why he would always grip harder on Aoba’s hand when Aoba showed signs of pushing him away.

It’s late now. If Midorijima wasn’t safe during the day then it’s even more so at night. Usually, he wouldn't have minded even if he was to pick a fight out of nowhere on the street, simply spending his night with physical confrontations and a few rounds of Rhyme matches. But this child had become all his reasons to brush the idea away; there’s no way he could move at ease if he brought him alone, and besides, he wouldn’t want to involve him in any of his rough undertakings.

The last thing he needed was to inadvertently commit murder then having someone else’s parents to come after his neck and asking him to pay for his endeavours. He’d created enough troubles for Tae.

It’s enough.

And that left him with a final resort.

“Listen,” he said, squatting so that he was on the same eye level with the child. “I’ll get someone to send you to the police or help you find your parents tomorrow, okay? It’s getting late now and it’s not safe to wander around anymore.”

He felt like he was starting to lose contact with himself; he couldn’t understand why he would go to this extent and why he needed to do this – to a stranger that looked so much like him, on top of everything else – but here he was, thinking for others more than he’d ever think for himself.

“Let’s go home,” he said after a fleeting silence.

Perhaps Tae can figure something out then; he could take all the nagging if needed. She’s a much better person to handle this matter than him after all.

Convinced of his own plan, Aoba brought the child and strolled through a few more streets. It’s becoming darker with every passing minute. His alertness heightened out of his own instinct as he stayed vigilant to the sound of hurrying footsteps and the sight of hiding shadows. But the moment he strode into one of the back alleys – a shortcut he often used to get home quicker or to hide from others – he knew that he’d made the worst decision he’d ever made for the day.

“Look what we have here?”

“Tch.”

Great timing. _Great_. Of all times, he had to bump into them _now_ , the sore losers from his earlier Rhyme match. Guess he was too naïve to think that he’d hidden his trails well all this while.

“We were only guessing that this could be your hideout but we got lucky, it seems and… woah, since when do you have a child? Great job, as expected from you, Slyblue!”

One of the four men blocking their path stepped towards Aoba and was about to pat his shoulder when Aoba kicked him in the stomach, sending him flying back to his comrades.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” the other man screamed.

“Leave!” Aoba snarled. “I’m in no mood to entertain you today.”

“Is that so?” Another came walking towards him. Sensing a conflict, Aoba pushed the child to hide behind him while the man came to face Aoba up close, practically breathing hot air into Aoba’s face.

“No mood, huh?” A hand clasped onto his chin, lifting his face so that he was glaring into the man’s eyes. “Is it because of your child? Shall we get rid of him first then?”

That final words of the man seemed to have sparked the switch in Aoba as Aoba bit into the man’s hand then dashed towards the other men and kicked them all on different body parts. He couldn’t tell how hard of an impact his attacks were. All that was shouting in his head was to get rid of them before they could lay their hands on the child. The fight went on for a few minutes; his cheek bruised from a punch, his lips bleeding from a kick, and his ribs at the point of breaking if he hadn’t avoided a fatal kick. The taste of rush had his blood boiling and before he knew it, he was fighting harder than before, recklessly, sending punches and kicks on whatever objects that came into contact with his flesh. Screams resounded in the dark, once-quiet alley, sound of bones breaking vaulted off the wall. His body acted solely by _instinct_ for a good fifteen minutes as if it’d lost the last ounce of restraint left in him. When he was finally calming down, his vision starting to come back to him, his throat clenched at the sight in front of him, where his fist was raised close to the small boy’s face.

He breathed cripplingly for a long moment, fist stuck in mid-air as his mind struggled to return to its former state. At long last, he swallowed down his throat, lowered his hand, and stuck his hands into his pockets.

“Go home,” was all he could say to the boy. He’d done it. Forget about bringing the boy home, forget about affection. This was who he really was and he was certain that the boy was now terrified of him after having seen his ruthless acts.

Turning his back towards the boy, he walked out of the alley but stopped his steps the moment a small hand grabbed onto the hem of his jacket.

“What?” he growled. “Can’t you see? I beat people up, I’m not a good person. You should go home.”

But the child shook his head, tugging harder onto Aoba’s jacket.

“Go home,” Aoba repeated, pulling his clothes out of the boy’s grip just to have the boy seizing onto his hand again and rubbed his small thumb gently against his new bruise.

“Follow…”

Aoba’s motion stopped, his heard beating loudly in his ears.

“Follow… you,” the boy blurted, slowly but surely.

“What?” Aoba turned around, eyes wide.

“Home,” the boy said, breaking into his usual bright grin as he did and catching Aoba completely off guard.

“Home…” Aoba repeated. They locked gaze for another few seconds before Aoba kneeled and hugged the small boy, face buried against his shoulder.

“Home,” he said again. Out of his own surprise, he broke into a smile, one that he’d forgotten since the day his childhood friend left him.

Picking the boy’s hand up again, they continued walking down the streets, heading towards the direction of the Seragaki household.

 

* * *

 

Still, having to walk into his own house with a child in his hand was easier said than done. It took a whole deal for him to open the front door, walk into the living space, and before he knew it, he was stood facing his grandmother, who had ceased her preaching from the moment she saw the child.

“A great-grandchild…?”

“It’s not that!” Aoba exclaimed in horror.

“Is that so?” Tae eyed him suspiciously. “He looks exactly like you when you were three.”

If there was one person who knew him best, it’d definitely be Tae. Despite not wanting to admit to the fact, one of the reasons to why he’d wanted to bring this child home was to prove himself wrong. But what Tae had blurted crushed that wish into dust. He was _sure_ that he’d never gotten himself a son; he was way too young for that. But how could he explain this situation then?

“Anyway, regardless of what it is, I didn’t expect you to be home for dinner so now I have to cook more. You’ll have to wait for a while. Just keep that boy company if you don’t intend to help out,” Tae brushed off then making her way back into the kitchen.

“Sure, sure,” Aoba answered docilely. The child had since looked around the house by himself when Aoba was being tackled by Tae. Now, he was tiptoeing, trying to catch a glimpse of the photo frames on the shelf.

Seeing that, Aoba toddled towards him and carried him up, enough for him to take a good look.

“That’s my parents and me,” he described. “They areno longer here though.”

The child looked at the photo for a few moments, then at Aoba, and back at the photo again.

“You’re surprised too, huh? I know they said there’s a couple of people who share the same face as you in this world but seeing one myself is really… well, surprising, maybe?”

And confusing.

The boy responded with nothing but a smile, the usual, before he hugged Aoba and pressed his face against his chest.

Dinner that might be one of the most peaceful meals they ever had since a long time ago. For once, Tae wasn’t grumbling at Aoba and for another, her attention was entirely focused on the child, pouring food into his bowl and talking to him like he’s really her great grandchild. Seeing the scene reminded Aoba of the days when he used to stay with his parents, when they would gather around the table and enjoy meals together like this, and when they would joke and when promises were made. But now, those had become nothing but memories. It felt surreal to revisit a similar scene again, especially when he thought he’d gotten over it.

“Sometimes I wonder what went wrong with you. You used to be so cute,” Tae commented casually when Aoba helped her out with the dishes after dinner.

“I wonder about that too,” Aoba responded mindlessly, mind filled with considerations he’d never thought of.

Tae looked at him for a brief moment before she spoke again,

“Tomorrow, I’ll ask around and bring the kid to the police.”

“Yeah, do that,” Aoba said, still as unfocused as before.

“For tonight, though,” Tae continued as she placed the last washed plate back into the cabinet. “You keep him company.”

“Yeah…”

“Aoba?”

Aoba came back to himself at the call of his name, eyes brightened upon seeing Tae staring dotingly at him, with a gaze he’d long forgotten.

“Isn’t it nice to be reminded of who you really are once a while?”

Leaving those words with him, Tae left the kitchen while Aoba stared at her back, perturbed by what she’d just told him.

 

* * *

 

He hadn’t been speaking to the child since dinner. It’s ironic, really. He didn’t have any problems speaking to him even when he knew nothing of him when they first met. But now, all that he could do was lying in bed and staring at the dark ceiling while the child stared fixedly at him by his side.

“What?” he asked, without looking at the child.

In response, the child shuffled closer towards him, his small hands grabbing onto Aoba’s clothes. It was then that it occurred to him of what the child was really trying to say.

The child wanted attention, just like any other child would. Wasn’t him the same too? Ever since his parents and Koujaku left, he had been alone; no one would care about what he wanted to do, how he felt, and if he was okay. Except Tae.

But he had taken everything for granted, forgetting that the most important person was just right by his side. Instead, he had been seeking for external gratification the entire time just to satisfy his selfish need for validation.

But this child was different. He wasn't looking at anyone else. He was only looking at Aoba, and he only wanted Aoba’s attention.

That was all.

Out of his own impulse, Aoba pulled the child closer, letting him cuddle against his body as his hands encircled his tiny torso. He was starting to feel soreness in the back of his nose.

“Ao… ba,” the child spoke.

“Hm?” Aoba replied meekly.

“Aoba,” the boy repeated. “Name.”

“Yeah,” Aoba said. “My name is Aoba.”

The boy smiled blazingly.

“My name. Aoba.”

Aoba turned around snappishly, shocked.

“What?”

“My name, is, Aoba,” the boy said again, still grinning.

“Are you for real…?”

The boy nodded, rubbing his cheek against Aoba’s chest

“What is wrong with today…?” Aoba whispered, back to staring at the ceiling.

“Aoba.”

“Hm?”

“Will I grow up to be like you?”

“Haha,” Aoba chuckled, drowsing off sluggishly. “Don’t be like me. I’m not a good guy.”

He could feel movements of the boy shaking his head by his side.

“Aoba is a great, great person,” the boy countered. “Aoba fed me, and fought bad guys.”

“Bad guys, huh?” Aoba cackled flippantly. “I guess… if you’re Aoba too, then you would grow up to be like me then. Just…”

Feeling himself slowly falling asleep, Aoba hugged the boy closer.

“…don’t be too hard on yourself when you do.”

Perhaps all of these were just dreams. When he woke, he’d be back to his usual routine; no parents, no Koujaku, and still being the infamous Slyblue.

 

* * *

 

He wondered when was the last time he had a dream. His memories were muddled but at the very least, he could remember how safe he felt when he was in the dream, as if someone had been looking after him even before he was aware of it. It almost felt like something in his mind was trying to tell him something, or to remind him of an existence he’d accidentally forgotten.

Sitting up, he gawked into his hands, trying to remember what he had seen in the dream but all that he could remember was the shadow of a figure who looked strangely like himself, the taste of warm _onigiri_ and sweet cake, and a warm hug that was given to him when that very figure mentioned the word ‘home’.

He looked up, shifting his gaze to look out of the window. He could already hear the hustles and bustles on the street. The sun was already up.

It was just another day in Midorijima, another day of his basic routine; still no parents, but this time, Koujaku had returned, went through a series of life-changing experiences, and met a lot of different people who’d changed his life.

He also met _him_.

The very reminder had him burying his face in his hands, the abrupt stab on his heart almost forced tears out of his eyes.

 _It's just a dream_ , he tried to convince himself.

Because he didn't want to accept the fact that he had lost the one protector who’d been looking over him since before he could make sense of things himself.

He didn’t want to admit to the fact that they will never see each other again, let alone having a chance to express his gratitude and how he really felt towards him.

That’s why, everything was just a dream.

That was all.


End file.
